Sonnet in blue #8

If destiny should ever be as fair
And gentle as your touch upon the skin,
That wakes a man from slumber and regret
Of love that was reluctant to begin.

Then purify the future with a kiss
Upon the lips that whisper mystery,
Of truths we left abandoned in the past,
Consigned with all that’s gone to history.

So lay your head upon this dream of white,
And rest a little while in beggar’s arms.
Then I shall weight my sorrow on your breasts,
And tie it up with ribbons and with charms.

First one with lace, and then the next with gold,
That’s woven softly through the next lie told.